Down a Slippery Slope
by MissMune
Summary: Oneshot. Was it truly so difficult for Krusty to take ‘no’ for an answer? For him to understand that he, Robert Underdunk Terwilliger, already had plans for the rest of his life, and that being a clown’s sidekick was not one of them?


A/N: Aaaah, one of my Simpsons fics. The only one I managed to finish (but obviously never posted). I enjoyed the premise of it. I kind of felt the need to elaborate farther on how Sideshow Bob became, well, _Sideshow_ Bob.

I didn't like how it turned out at first, perhaps because I like devillifying villains, and feel somewhat guilty about that. I don't know.

Ah well, it matters not. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Don't own the Simpsons.

It was a disagreeable place, Krusty studios, albeit hidden behind the front of cheerful buffoonery; the sort of thing he had grown up with, he and his brother watching the Krusty the Clown show in front of the television. However, the backstage was an entirely different matter and it had never occurred to him how very ugly the children's entertainment business could be until that unfortunate pie-in-the-face-take.

It had seemed innocent enough at the time, and the job offer that followed was cheerfully declined. Since then, he had rejected the _same_ offer an innumerable amount of times, through the various phone calls that he had received from the clown. They varied from simple requests, to begging, to bribes, to threats, and sometimes all of these were in the same phone call. Was it truly so difficult for Krusty to take 'no' for an answer? For him to understand that he, Robert Underdunk Terwilliger, already had plans for the rest of his life, and that being a clown's sidekick was _not_ one of them?

Finally, it became evident that the only way to resolve this issue would be to go to Krusty studios in person. True, he had rejected the first offer in person, but perhaps he hadn't been comprehensive enough. No, this time he would put his rejection in the most simplistic terms. He would even use words with single syllables if that would help Krusty grasp what he was saying. Anything to get the man to stop _pestering_ him.

Nevertheless, faced with the prospect of entering Krusty studios, Bob was less than thrilled. For several moments he could only stand outside of the building, wishing dearly that he hadn't driven Cecil to that wretched sidekick audition. _This_ was his reward for being a caring older brother?

Grumbling lightly, Bob hastily pulled open the door to the backstage and swiftly strode inside. Normally he wouldn't be in such a hurry, but the sooner he was in, the sooner he would be out. Well, luck permitting. But, at the moment, he simply needed to find Krusty.

However, a quick scan of the backstage yielded nothing except for a particularly rotund woman in a pink tutu and a man with large shoulders and a militaristic outfit. Bemused, Bob considered leaving. Leaving, and then changing his telephone number, he couldn't help but mentally add with narrowed eyes.

Fortunately, however (or perhaps unfortunately), the very man who he had wanted to see entered the room, complaining about something to a haggard assistant and smoking like a chimney. It looked as though he could have gone on for hours, and doubtlessly would have if Bob hadn't come into his line of vision. Shooing the assistant off and flicking the cigarette toward the boy, the clown approached the other man as though he was an old friend.

"_Booooob_!" Krusty greeted insincerely, patting the Bob's back roughly.

"Hello, Krusty," was the stiff reply.

"So, you're here for the job," Krusty said bluntly, taking a hundred dollar bill out for some reason. Bob almost believed that it was a bribe of some sort before it was set aflame and used to light another cigarette.

Blinking in surprise at the superfluous sight, Bob was temporarily rendered speechless. He watched as the flaming bill was aired until the fire died, before turning his gaze back upon the other man. "No, I'm not," he replied bluntly, "Actually, I simply came here to say: Thank you for the offer, Krusty, but I'm not interested."

Taking a puff of his cigarette, Krusty was unfazed. "Kid, you think I got where I am by taking 'no' for an answer?" He asked, pointing the butt of the cigarette at Bob. "Or _saying_ 'no'," he added with a chuckle that slowly faded into a groan as his shoulders slumped.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to make an exception this time," Bob replied dully, already finding the man repulsive.

The clown moaned again. "Come on, Bob!" Krusty suddenly pleaded, all the composure he previously possessed leaving him in an instant. "None of those other shmoes that tried out even got a chuckle! I can't hire any of _them_!"

Smiling lightly at the memory of the applause he had received, Bob nevertheless shook his head. "Be that as it may, Krusty, I can't be your sidekick."

"Why not?!" Krusty questioned desperately.

With a sigh, Bob considered all of the reasons why it would be a terrible idea to venture into the world of clowning. "Well, firstly, I'm well aware of how little you pay your employees, Krusty."

"I pay them enough to _live_!" Krusty assured loudly, a bit too defensive on the subject; the unimpressed look on Bob's face told that he was having none of it.

"Secondly, I didn't spend thousands of dollars on my education to become nothing more than a clown's _sidekick_," Bob said, in slightly sour tone, "There are far more lucrative job opportunities for me."

Without giving the clown a chance to respond, Bob continued unabated, "And finally, one of those 'shmoes' that tried out was my brother!" He paused, furrowing his brow in aggravation, "Cecil is already certain that I'm attempting to usurp his live-long dream. He wouldn't even speak to me until I _assured_ him that I wouldn't be accepting the job. The _last_ thing I need right now is to have a falling out with him."

Oddly, Krusty was silent, as though he was seriously considering what Bob was saying to him. "Alright, Bob," he said seriously, placing his arm around the other man's shoulders and leading him forward. "I won't make you do anything that could cause a rift in your family."

"Thank you, Krusty," Bob answered gratefully. That had been much simpler than he had expected, "I'm glad that you-"

"Yeah, yeah," Krusty cut him off, as the two stopped their short walk in front of a large red curtain. "Here, you'll need this," he said, shoving some sort of whistle into Bob's hands.

"What is -?" Bob stared down at the object in confusion, but his question went unfinished as the squeaking of the curtain's pulley system filled his ears, barely audible over the excited chatter of children that he had not heard before. Realization soon followed, although there was no time to act upon it.

There was a sharp push from behind him, Krusty no doubt, and Bob was sent stumbling straight into the spotlight of the _Krusty the Clown_ show. "HEY, HEY, KIDS!" the green-haired clown shouted, from somewhere beside him. "We have a great show for you today, but first, I'd like to introduce my new assistant: Sideshow Bob!"

Automatically, Bob's head swiveled to focus a hate-filled glare upon the other man. His face was twisted, furious with the idea of being tricked by such a _buffoon_. He had to harness all of his will power to refrain from strangling Krusty. Even so, his hands were shaking at his sides, just _itching_ to wrap themselves around the clown's neck.

Apparently sensing danger, Krusty indicated to someone off stage, whispering something. Bob would have been in close enough proximity to hear it, had the blood not been pumping so ferociously in his ears. But whatever was said didn't much concern him, as he took a step forward.

_Splat_. _Splat_.

The sound of two custard cream pies hitting his face was all Bob was conscious of for a moment. Hitting both sides at the same time, the force caused the hat he had grown accustomed to wearing to fly straight up and off of his head. Freed from its container, his wild mass of reddish hair sprung out all over, and easily supported the hat as gravity brought it back down again.

Abruptly the audience exploded with laughter and cheers. Anger briefly abated by shock, Bob took notice of the applause he was receiving. It was a wonderful feeling, to inspire such joy into the hearts of others. Ignoring the pie glop that was sliding down his face and staining his suit, he smiled.

"Everybody say hello to Sideshow Bob!" Krusty's abrasive voice brought Bob back to reality, but he somehow didn't feel all that furious at the clown anymore.

"Hello, Sideshow Bob!" he audience chorused. This thrilled Bob, but he wondered what he should do. He could still walk out, change his number, and pretend like this whole incident never happened. But… he had an opportunity here, and opportunity entertain the children of Springfield and maybe even to bestow upon them some class and intelligence. It wasn't a chance that was ever going to come along again.

"So, what do you have to say to that, Sideshow Bob?" Krusty questioned, a look of mild irritation on his features from Bob's extended silence.

The only response was the shrill warble of the slide whistle.


End file.
